Death come marching in March.
The darkest night with full moon above.
With gloved hands, Death purloins my loved ones.
Takes their coins so they may join the soigne march.

I hear the dull sound of feet over quiet whispers.
Sensing dread before I see the sight.
Death conducting the dead, while abducting new souls.
The march threads away through the night.

Death is a relentless one. The dark menace in an endless pursuit
It becomes clearer as the march gets nearer.
Death hopes to pull up my grass roots
An rope my untethered spirit, whether I consent or not.

Death will not yield to anyone, and I am no exception.
My fate has been sealed. A deadline one can not be late for.
If my body is stubborn, and won't let me give in.
Death will twinge me until I am unhinged.

Each year, Death comes in March
Each year, I watch Death march away.
Each year, Death gets closer.
This year, I will go marching in March.

hurry boy, don't doze
etch the words before they perish
as the situation once again alters
coiling around your wrist
tugging you to that place
sleep every moment
dwelling in the blankets
soaking in that stale security
false impressions attached/removed
like velcro ripping in the silence
masks on masks on masks on masks on masks on
could spend days pruning in the seabed of potential
while the salt collects on my eyelashes and the days vanish like eons
there are days where the stillness in me quakes my feet
into the fervor of rabbit under moving tire and
I pound the walls for a train to pass and shake the foundation
but the tracks are too far away now, and the stillness creeps
dust collects on the fan blades, then the plastic grating, then the intake
the thing rattles all night now; loose ***** in the front
hardly a substitute for that rumble in your dreams
from an archer daniel's car rushing by at four
the bed is a lot better at this place though
king size, though I'd rather be in california
where the water is warm and the memories catch your falls
I've never been there and the idea is always better than the outcome
kicking sand like a beach bully *** flexing in strut
sun burns within seconds of shirtless self-reveals
the salt is being washed off of the cars
from an illinois winter that the plow conquered to the dismay of
the kids down the block who still waited
at dawn for the diesel yellow groan
the heat is swelling in the season
chirps return with the sting
of rolled up passenger windows
magnifying the clean white light
ninety-eight million miles marched
to a single point on a pale dot
burning that poor gal's cheek
but the medicinal effects
of the smooch are more than known
to generations of the summer awakened,
free-falling, reality born.
here we are again with showers and flowers,
here we are again with cyclones in the alley,
here we are again with cocoons and buffoons,
here we are again with milk in the valley.
this heart pumps as the snow goes rising
to the funnels and pillars east-stretched
where the baby boomers buy plots and
the love begins to reach for an even share.

June will kiss you and tell you that you’re beautiful,
July will ******* senseless and leave you with a bleeding heart,
August will try to put your broken pieces back together only to get cut and leave you still broken,
September will bruise you and ask you why you’re still crying on the floor,
January  will snap  you in half and  later kiss your scars but only ends up cutting you deeper,
February will be an ocean of self destruction, washing over you and gently cradling you in it’s arms,
March is broken records all over your apartment floor and driving to the liquor store at 4 am,
April is blood in the sink, crying yourself to sleep, shaky hands and breaking down every time you hear his name,
May is a storm forming in your eyes when you realize that you need to save yourself and when you stopped loving yourself, they stopped loving you too, when they tell you that wounds will heal, you know that you’re never going to forget.
All you wanted was to hear the words ‘i’m never going to leave you’

Reckless
Action can
Create crisis-

beaware.

Please-

Don't fall victim
To Ego's
Allure.

Hold fast
The light
You've been
Harboring
Within.

Beware
Division

From the
Ides of March.

Tread lightly,
My dears.

Walk soft,
With good thought-
Prepare
Your mind
And sit guard
Your soul.

Chaos' Shadow
Is passing by-

Much is brewing
Has been for
So long.

It was
Four years ago,
We knelt
Pregnant with terror
Of what life was
Hurling our way,

And here we are
Nearing the end

Wounded

Yet,
Standing
Strong-
As we must.

The final
Square off
Is
Today.

Speak softly,
My dears,

And again,

Tread lightly.

Deceit is slinking
About.

But trust your heart
And what you've learned
For tomorrow,

It finally ends,

Either one way
Or, some other

Tomorrow,

It finally begins.

The steady thump sounds dull to my fingertips touch.
Shadows bend silently towards the spot in which I stand.
Rooftop corners morph into reaching hands.
Bare treetops beckon me.
Tiredness engulfs me,
Like the setting sunlight silhouetting the naked trees.
The tectonic plates beneath the surface of my skin shift ever so slowly.  
Allowing an ache to snake through me in whispers.
My blood gurgles in response to the changing sunlight,
To the rise in temperature.
My body ceaselessly remembers,
What my mind has tried so hard to erase.
So that I cannot pin the shiver that runs across my skin.

International Women’s Day?
Don’t you mean 24/7/365?
That sounds about right
Just making sure you knew
That day was misconstrued
We don’t need a holiday for that
Women being free is a holiday in itself
We don’t need 12 days
We need 365
Because we’re going all year long
And we’re not stopping for anyone
Partners in crime
Without doing any crimes
Somebody to help make these words rhyme
Whoever helps pass these reckless times
Is worth celebrating every day by telling them how much you appreciate them
Because there might be a day that you will longer be able to

The times are so normal and peaceful.

A yellow leaf can fall freely to the earth

without any obstructions and die peacefully.

Rivers flow at their will: sometimes calm
         sometimes furious.

Everything is perfect, following a masterful design

They invented a machine to keep peace and order

The machine wiped out chaos and dissent form the world


The machine pushes the misfits into under ground

Look around you: there is no one with a scarred face

A world so perfect

The machine emits a sound while it works:

An army of iron boots stomping the ground

And the machine's sound mutes all other voices

All other music

And a perfect world is born.

Now, the machine is turned on

I hear the sound of iron boots

They march ahead....

basilisk ****
nonparticular inexecrable exit
art ****
the lips on for breakfast
twilight zip entanglement
meticulous bending and sensual telepathy

fever-sickness
rock 'n roll boo-boos
lilting black 'n blues on the caboose
puppeteering every tasty ***** loose

chews the collar
thighs and necking room
bustling bussers it gives ifs
gets down with

daisy, dior, dkny, grapefruit(purple) to narcisso and pink sugar too

Bliss tainted madness
playing tug-o-war with
January's vacuum
Years of passing down groupies
to the most recent djs playing bad dubstep tunes
and that sickness of seeing iloveyou's abused